A hard lot, Sue. Can only imagine that pain and dispair and wanting to cling to the physical reminders of your beloved son. As I have no other way to comfort or hug you, I again wish you courage and strength and Faith -- and loving, supportive family and friends.
I wouldn't call it despair, Nance, but just sorrow and the loneliness of knowing we'll not see him again in this lifetime. I remind myself that he was truly, truly loved, and that is a blessing not everyone enjoys.
And Marlene, you're right. I need to remember that. Thank you saying it.
Connie, I could not imagine it either, but here I am--like many mothers before me. Their silent company is somwhow comforting. If they could do this, I can.
Oddly enough when Jen posted the pic on Memorial Day my first thought was "Huh, there is grass there now." I guess it was a little bit of a shock that time has and did move on. The season has changed. And the red clay is now covered with grass and clover. An odd observation I know. Its those weird realizations that really wake you up.
I was glad to see the grass; when we were there in April it was still bare ground. It will look much better with the new stone. Larry got a smile out of the Confederate flag next door to Jon.
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I can't imagine such an experience. Hugs to you, Granny. Please know that you're in my thoughts as you work through your grief.
ReplyDeleteWordless indeed.
ReplyDeleteIt's such a beautiful place -- though I can't yet imagine visiting my son there, or leaving again.
xox
Leaving is the hard, hard part. It's a long drive to get there-6 hours-and then once I do, I don't want to leave.
ReplyDeleteA hard lot, Sue. Can only imagine that pain and dispair and wanting to cling to the physical reminders of your beloved son. As I have no other way to comfort or hug you, I again wish you courage and strength and Faith -- and loving, supportive family and friends.
ReplyDeleteIt's a beautiful place. But not nearly as beautiful as the place where he is now. Still, your heart hurts and mine hurts with you. blessings, marlene
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't call it despair, Nance, but just sorrow and the loneliness of knowing we'll not see him again in this lifetime. I remind myself that he was truly, truly loved, and that is a blessing not everyone enjoys.
ReplyDeleteAnd Marlene, you're right. I need to remember that. Thank you saying it.
Connie, I could not imagine it either, but here I am--like many mothers before me. Their silent company is somwhow comforting. If they could do this, I can.
ReplyDeleteOddly enough when Jen posted the pic on Memorial Day my first thought was "Huh, there is grass there now." I guess it was a little bit of a shock that time has and did move on. The season has changed. And the red clay is now covered with grass and clover. An odd observation I know. Its those weird realizations that really wake you up.
ReplyDeleteI was glad to see the grass; when we were there in April it was still bare ground. It will look much better with the new stone. Larry got a smile out of the Confederate flag next door to Jon.
ReplyDelete